


The Boy Next Door

by Jmeelee



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Autumn, First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:34:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26932195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jmeelee/pseuds/Jmeelee
Summary: It wasn’t like Stiles didn’tknowthose things.  He did. But his mother had left Stiles the Jeep when she died.  She wanted him to have it.  She taught him about the clutch and the gear shift when he was seven years old.  He just wanted to roll down the windows and hear her laugh on the wind again.Stiles didn’t have the words to say all that to Derek, so he said, “Ew.  I don’t want to hear your logic, Hale.” He reached into a dark corner of the garage, swatted away some cobwebs and grabbed two rakes with worn wooden handles, and a couple of pairs of work gloves.  “Put up or shut up. I’ve got rage to burn.”
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 20
Kudos: 220
Collections: A Very Sterek Fall 2020





	The Boy Next Door

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [A Very Sterek Fall Fest](https://averysterekfall.tumblr.com/) on tumblr.
> 
> Thank you to [Novemberhush](https://novemberhush.tumblr.com/) for the beta read, and the friendship.

“Go burn that anger off doing something productive!” His father’s words squeaked past the front door before it slammed. Stiles flew down his porch steps, out onto the walkway, acorns cracking under his stomping sneakers. He halted in front of the garage, stabbed every number into the keypad.

“Why won’t you just let me get my license?!” He’d yelled moments ago. What more did his father want? Stiles had passed his permit test with flying colors, logged over 100 hours of practice driving, rocked driver’s ed, and taken three private, professional driving lessons. He was more than ready to get his provisional license, and his father's hesitation was downright insulting at this point. The garage door rolled up, exposing baby-blue paint inch by inch.

“Hey. What are you doing?” Stiles wheeled around, arms windmilling and heart racing.

The boy next door, Derek Hale, plopped a garbage bin at the curb in front of his house. Derek and Stiles lived next door to each other for years, since Stiles and his family moved to Beacon Hills when Stiles was five. Only a year apart in age, they’d been close friends once upon a time. Derek sat with him on the school bus and taught him how to play touch football. An extra place setting was always available at the Hale family dinner table for when Stiles showed up like an only-child moth drawn to Derek’s large-family flame. But when Derek left Stiles in junior high to move up to Beacon Hills High School, he’d left their friendship behind too. He’d grown muscles and facial hair and a social life that had no room for Stiles anymore. They still hung out occasionally at neighborhood barbeques, but it wasn’t the same. 

“Jesus, dude. Someone needs to put a bell on you.”

Derek looked down at the bulky garbage can—the kind Stiles knew damn well sounded like rumbling thunder on it’s trip to the curb—and back to Stiles, raising one dark bushy eyebrow. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, nothing,” Stiles spit, breathing hard. “Don’t worry about it.” What would Derek care, anyway? He and his older sister, Laura, shared custody of a sleek black Camaro. No one forbade him from taking his road test. And middle-child Derek Hale had no idea how it felt to be the sole beneficiary of an overprotective parent’s ridiculous restrictions.

“Doesn’t seem like nothing,” Derek pressed. “You stomped out here like you were going to kick someone’s ass.”

Anger and grief settled in Stiles’ lungs like cement. “I’m just out here, admiring _my_ car—” Stiles waved a hand at the 1980 CJ5 Jeep parked in his garage—“which I’ll _never_ be able to drive because my father is a controlling prick.”

Derek cut across his yard until he stood in Stiles’ driveway. “He’s worried about you. In his line of work, he’s probably seen some terrible accidents, seen the cost of teenagers driving before they were ready.” Stiles rolled his eyes. “You’re all he has, Stiles. Soon you’ll go away to college, and he won’t see you every day, and a car means he’ll see you less _now_ when he’s probably trying to soak up as much time together as he can. Try not to be too tough on him.”

It wasn’t like Stiles didn’t _know_ those things. He did. But his mother had left Stiles the Jeep when she died. She wanted him to have it. She taught him about the clutch and the gear shift when he was seven years old. He just wanted to roll down the windows and hear her laugh on the wind again. 

Stiles didn’t have the words to say all that to Derek, so he said, “Ew. I don’t want to hear your logic, Hale.” He reached into a dark corner of the garage, swatted away some cobwebs and grabbed two rakes with worn wooden handles, and a couple of pairs of work gloves. “Put up or shut up. I’ve got rage to burn.”

Energy spilled from him like oil from a smashed tanker. Leaves flung into the air. Within minutes Stiles stood in the center of a thigh-deep pile; immense, immediate progress. It felt good. He raked on and on, across the yard and back, until a multicolored mountain stood in front of him, the lawn a green swath behind.

Derek came and stood before Mt. Stiles, surveying it thoughtfully. Then he turned and, without catching himself, fell backward into the leaf pile. He sprawled comfortably, sinking to the ground, brown, red, orange, and yellow leaves sliding over his handsome face. Stiles stepped into the pile, sat down cross-legged. They were in a nest, hidden from the world. 

He looked at Derek and said, “Every day I don’t have my license feels like another day, I don’t have _her_.” He shrugged. “It might be stupid to feel that way, but it’s true.”

Derek’s eyes softened at the memory of Claudia. “Not stupid at all.” Derek put both hands around Stiles’ waist and pulled him down flat into the leaves with him.

The kiss was long. And serious.

Stiles stared awestruck at Derek’s stubbled cheek, which pressed against his, and with amazement, brought his lips together to kiss Derek again. To start their second kiss, and choose when to end it. Derek’s heart raced under Stiles’ palm, and his own picked up speed, keeping pace.

Very slowly, Stiles’ hand crept around Derek’s face, finding the back of his neck where his dark hair lay thick over his pulse. Derek’s hand, rough-surfaced, gently touched his face. He brushed the hair from Stiles’ forehead, traced his profile with the pad of his thumb.

“Derek!” Shouted his little sister, Cora, from the porch steps. “Derek, where are you? Isaac Lahey’s on the house phone. He says you aren’t answering his texts.” She waited a few moments, and when she didn’t get a response, she reentered the house and slammed the door.

They fell apart, each lying back on the crinkling leaves, staring up a blue, early October sky. “I’d better go take that,” Derek said.

“Sure. Yeah. Gotcha.” Stiles agreed. “That guy’s pretty needy.” Derek huffed a laugh and rolled his eyes. He stood first, brushing leaves off an ass that perfectly filled out his jeans. He reached down, grabbed Stiles’ hand, and hoisted him to his feet. Stiles could feel bits of leaf in his hair and down the back of his flannel shirt. 

Derek kept his fingers intertwined with Stiles’, reached out with his free hand, and picked an oak leaf from Stiles’ shoulder. “Can I ask you something, Stiles?”

“Uh. Sure?” The words came out breathless.

“When you do get your license—and you _will_ —could I be the first person you drive with in your Jeep?”

Stiles ducked his head, overcome, and stared at his feet for a few seconds. He looked back up at Derek from under his lashes. “Yeah. I think that can be arranged.”

Derek smiled. “Can’t wait.” He squeezed Stiles’ hand before letting go.

Stiles’ heart and lungs were working hard enough to power the entire county of Beacon Hills. Once Derek disappeared inside his house, Stiles picked up his rake again. Their two bodies had left imprints in the leaf pile, like angels in the snow. He raked the pile back together, until the prints were hidden, the evidence gone. Their little secret, at least for now.

If Stiles’ dad found out, he’d probably never let Stiles leave the house, let alone take a road test.

_The boy next door,_ Stiles marveled, touching a finger to his kiss-swollen bottom lip. _Who would have thought he’d be such a cliche?_

Stiles stored the rakes back in the garage and briefly rested his forehead against the Jeep’s spare tire. “Soon,” he whispered. The word, the Jeep, and Derek, all held the promise of happiness. “ _Soon_.”

He closed the garage door and went back inside. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [Jamie!](https://jmeelee.tumblr.com/) Thank you for reading <3


End file.
